


Dirty

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Fisting, Body Dysphoria, Breathplay, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Discorporation (Good Omens), Drowning, Drug Use, Electrocution, Erotic Electrostimulation, Exhibitionism, Exsanguination, Gender Dysphoria, Gore, He/Him Pronouns For Gabriel (Good Omens), Hotel Sex, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Menstrual Sex, Menstruation, Multi, Non-Human Genitalia, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, Temperature Play, Top Beelzebub (Good Omens), Top Gabriel (Good Omens), Under-negotiated Kink, Vagina Dentata, Ze/Zir Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22455235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Gabriel is extremely picky about the tidiness of his corporation. Unfortunately, Heaven refuses to issue a new one every time his gets cruddy. Fortunately, Beelzebub is willing to help make the need much more immediate. Through murder. Sexy murder.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Dagon (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Disposable Demon/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 38
Collections: Good Omens Kink Meme Anonymous





	1. Suffocation

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure whether to warn for character death or not because _technically_ Gabriel dies, but he pops right back up again. 
> 
> Gabriel is going to get murdered in a series of inventive ways throughout this fic. He's enthusiastic about all of them, but if that's the sort of dove you'd rather not keep up your sleeve during a birthday party, consider yourself warned.

Hell was gross. It was one of their defining features. For every spotless water feature up in Heaven, Hell had a lingering patch of damp. For every Heavenly marble floor, Hell had a carpet of slime. And for each of Heaven's shining swords, Hell had a rusty meat hook.

The shining swords were why Eric looked so terrified as he skittered into Lord Beelzebub's office – one in particular, rather than swords as a general concept. It was the shining one which was currently being wielded by the archangel behind him.

“Gabriel,” Beelzebub droned, waving a hand to let the Eric know he was free to run and dive back into whichever pit Gabriel had yanked him up from, “to what do I owe the displeasure?”

Gabriel looked like he was trying to avoid touching anything, possibly including the floor. He stood stiffly with his sword still raised as if he was about to challenge one of the flies to a duel.

“I think we should discuss this in private.”

“Anything you say to me, you can say in front of Dagon.”

Dagon snapped and cracked behind Beelzebub's throne. Gabriel wasn't reassured.

“Oh for – put the sword down, Gabriel, you look like a right prat,” said Beelzebub.1

“Fine,” Gabriel said through gritted teeth, shrieking the sword along the floor, “it's a problem with this corporation.”

“Looks alright to me,” Dagon commented, “I mean, it's too big, obviously, the chest looks ridiculous, and-”

Beelzebub's flies got louder and made a noise that was more like _shhhh_ than their usual _bzzzz_.

“Go on then, what's the problem with it?” Beelzebub asked, looking as close to curious as ze ever got.

Gabriel took a handkerchief from his pocket. Handkerchiefs had been out of fashion for at least three decades by this point, but the only demon to know that was currently enjoying a nice bisque in a fashionable restaurant in Manchester. Slowly, Gabriel raised the handkerchief to his face and rubbed, taking half a Boots' worth of foundation away to reveal a spotty pink rash around his jawline.

“You see this?” He asked, trembling and pointing at his face, “you see it? Every time I shave, it happens again. Doesn't matter how much lotion I use or how sharp my razor is. It _keeps happening_ , Bu- Lord Beelzebub. This corporation is broken.”

“Get a new one,” Dagon, who had invented suggesting the obvious some time in the 9th century and found it still got results, suggested.

“Dagon,” Beelzebub said, “you can leave us for now.” It was only after Dagon had shimmied grumpily through the floor that ze picked up the sword. “New corporation. I assume that's what this is for.”

“You got it,” Gabriel replied, more chipper than he’d sounded since he first stepped out of the lift. “That's why you're my favourite, Buzz, always quick off the-”

Beelzebub raised the sword to his throat, and Gabriel's words deserted him. The Righteous Blade of the Archangel Gabriel had been pressed into many a demon. It had never been turned on its owner. 

"Mark?" Beelzebub offered, tilting zir head.

Gabriel reminded himself to breathe.

“-Sure, that's the spirit! Go on, nice clean slice, make sure you get the arteries. Should only take a few seconds and then I can get the elevator back up, tell them the old body was broken, whoops, and brand new corporation before you know it.”

“Why don't you just do it yourself?”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose. “Ew. And risk screwing it up? Gross. I mean, have you ever seen one of the humans do it? _Ew._ ”

Beelzebub smirked. “Screw a lot of things up, do you prettyboy?”

The throne room felt much smaller when Gabriel stepped forward. The sword glowed brighter where it had bitten into his neck, tearing at the boundaries of Hell with grace and light. The air thrummed with potential and every fly in and around Beelzebub told zim to _do it, make it flow, bring it down, make it carrion, let us feast..._

The sword clattered against the floor. Beelzebub looked Gabriel slowly up and down.2

“Demons don't do _favours_. We make deals. What are you offering?”

Gabriel glared down his nose. Beelzebub was much slighter than him; had always chosen lithe, nimble little corporations which would be easy to throw around if they were both human. Right now, though, ze owned the room, both literally and figuratively.

“You get to kill an archangel. What more could you want?”

Beelzebub stepped back and sank into the throne. Ze lounged, taking up far more space than anyone occupying that amount of physical matter had any right to.

Ze Mobius stripped and zir trousers no longer had a crotch to them.

“Oh. _Oh._ ” Gabriel grinned. “You wanna get taken care of, Buzz? Sure. I can show you what the humans are finding fun these days. I’ve read the pornography.”

Beelzebub rolled zir eyes so hard that the fabric of Hell, already taut from where the heavenly blade had sliced it, almost ripped entirely so that ze could access several hundred more ommatidia to roll.

Fortunately time and space managed to stay together3 at least long enough for Gabriel to drop down onto his knees, still grinning stupidly, and start pulling at Beelzebub's underwear. It was grey, which wasn't a surprise, and lacy, which rather was. The waistband left a pink stripe across zir tummy for Gabriel to kiss softly along.

Even in the low light of Hell, Gabriel could tell Beelzebub's equipment wasn't standard issue. It was long, curved, deeply ridged and – in a move which had presumably involved Buzz looking at human genitals and asking for one of everything – hollow. He took the base in one hand and looked up to where the prince was squirming.

“How do I...?”

“Szzzeriously?” Beelzebub snapped. “Put it in your mouth. Figure it out.”

Gabriel went back to kissing, scattering light presses around the thatch of hair between Beelzebub's legs and up zir thighs. Once Beelzebub had enough, ze wove a hand into the prat's hair and moved his head so his mouth was right where ze wanted it. Gabriel, who was not as slow on the uptake as his entire personality suggested, took the tip in his mouth and sucked.

Blood roared in Beelzebub's ears. This hadn't happened in a while, and never with this particular anatomical configuration. Gabriel seemed to know what he was doing, though; licking round the sides was unexpected, but made zir toes curl. Ze still had a hand curled tightly in his hair, and when the archangel stuck his tongue inside, Beelzebub yanked hard enough that a human would have lost a few follicles.

Ze kept one hand behind his head and put the other on his face, palm pressed against his nose, and guided him down further. Gabriel gagged and sputtered against the intrusion. His corporation was as human as he could make it and breathing was more than just a habit at this point. He started to drool, saliva dripping down his chin as Beelzebub's cold fingertips drummed against his hairline.

“Suck it,” Beelzebub commanded.

He did his best. Spit pooled in the grey panties underneath his chin. Beelzebub's effort took up the whole of his mouth, crashing at his tonsils and causing him to splay out his fingers against the demon's thighs. Ze buzzed when he scratched up against them reflexively.

Gabriel tried to run his tongue along the various intricacies of the foreign object in his mouth, but it became more difficult as things started to blur around the edges. Beelzebub didn't seem to notice; ze was grunting and thrusting into his mouth, using zir hand to push him down harder and push harder up into his nose. The flickering lights and the dark walls seemed to wash away and Gabriel felt himself floating backwards.

“Oi,” Beelzebub said hoarsely, using the hand which had been cutting off his air to slap him across the face, “not yet. Szzztay with me.”

Gabriel's eyes were still half-shut and he looked as woozy as the humans who’d first discovered opium, but the hard sting across his cheek had brought him back around enough for him to start retching. He wasn't sucking, but that was fine; Beelzebub could easily thrust into his slack mouth.

With a grunt and a shudder ze unleashed sticky, viscous fluid across his tongue and down his throat, flooding his airways with it. There was gagging and gasping until there wasn't. Beelzebub pushed the archangel off zir effort and let him drop heavily to the floor.

“Huh,” said Gabriel from the corner, “that wasn't too unpleasant.”

He looked almost the same outside of his corporation as inside of it. The glowing and the ropes of light around him were different, but apart from that it was the same old Gabriel. None of that multiple eyeballs, multiple faces, screaming void nonsense that some of them upstairs went for.

Beelzebub breathed out heavily in an attempt to stop panting. Ze curled inwards, pulling the grey underwear up to cover their occult efforts. (Still hard, Gabriel noted. Maybe it was always like that.)

“You can go now,” ze muttered quietly.

Gabriel reached out a hand before realising he could no longer interact with things on the physical plane. “Hey, Buzz? That was fun. Thanks.”

“You realiszzze I'm going to feed that to a hellhound,” Beelzebub retorted, gesturing at Gabriel's empty corporation. “And I'm keeping the sword.”

“No favours,” Gabriel agreed, “but get it back to me before the quartermaster does his next stock take.”

“We'll see,” Beelzebub said, but Gabriel could tell zir heart wasn't in it.

If Eric had been terrified at being held hostage (not held hostage, Gabriel would have insisted, conscripted into an essential diplomatic mission), that was nothing compared with how he felt escorting the pure essence of an archangel back to the official lifts when that archangel was nude with a rock hard cock. Gabriel, however, had other things on his mind, with his new corporation being only one of them.

* * *

  
1Ze was right. He did. ⇑  
2Mostly up, but ze made a very good attempt at down, taking in Gabriel's spats and well-shined shoes. ⇑  
3For the kids, probably. ⇑


	2. Exsanguination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub has further adventures in surprise genitalia; Gabriel gives topping the old college try.

Beelzebub had been reading.

Mammals, ze had learnt, had extremely boring genitals. Although there were some fun variations in what they did with them (especially among the humans), almost all of them came in the same in-and-out models, with the only real differences being in size and texture. And while there was undoubtedly something entertaining about the thought of making Gabriel sit on something the size of his forearm, Beelzebub was looking for an effort that would be slightly more terrifying.

It was only when ze put down the biology books and picked up the sociology ones that ze found it.1

Ze had been walking around with _it_ between zir legs for some time, comfortable and settled, by the time Eric knocked on the door.

“Yes?”

The door screeched and stuck along the floor in the manner of every single door in Hell's offices.

“Lord Beelzebub,” said Eric, bobbing awkwardly. Hell didn't really hold with Heaven's fawning but this particular Eric had seen what Lord Hastur had done to his brothers. “Lord Hastur sends a message, which he says is courtesy of his husband's channels. He says – erm – _pigeon spunk, the one who couldn't get stung if he stuck his dick in a hornet's nest, wants to meet you upstairs_.”

Beelzebub paused. Ze had no particular reason to torture this Eric, but putting a pause's worth of fear into him was only decent. “Right. Tell him I got it.”

The hotel Gabriel had chosen to meet at looked like it had been designed by yuppies with hard-ons for the Coptic Church and an oversupply of gold leaf. Golden cherubs flew up the pillars around the concierge's desk. There was a crystal cross in the middle of the lift's mirror. In the middle of Gabriel's floor, a fountain poured water that Beelzebub was fairly sure wasn't holy, but eyeballed suspiciously and kept a wide berth from just in case.

“Room service,” ze said when ze knocked on Gabriel's door. Beelzebub was unsure exactly what 'room service' involved, but humans said it a lot before barging into each other's rooms, and they were trying to stay inconspicuous.

The room was dark when Gabriel opened it and hurried Beelzebub in.

“Sorry I couldn't come downstairs,” he said, with only a vague intonation towards apologetic. “I couldn't let anyone see this corporation disfigured. It would be bad for morale.”

Beelzebub's mind flipped acrobatically around while trying to figure out the angelic logic. “Disfigured,” ze eventually said flatly2. 

“Look, Buzz,” Gabriel said lowly, “I didn't want to let you see me like this, but...”

He waved a hand and the room's lights flicked on in gloriously bright halogen. The room's sheets, carpet, curtains and drapes were all the sort of hotel white Beelzebub was only familiar with in theory, having only ever previously visited cash-only B&Bs in King's Cross. Standing in the middle of the room was Gabriel, who Beelzebub blinked rapidly at, trying to find and process what in Satan's name he had meant by _disfigured_.

“Is – iszzz this a joke? Are you joking with me?”

Gabriel's mouth twisted. He raised a hand to his face.

“Wow. You don't have to be cruel about it.”

“You're not disfigured,” Beelzebub snapped, stalking across the room to throw zirself down on the bed with zir legs dangling over the edge. “They're freckles. Get over yourself.”

“They're gruesome.”

Beelzebub rarely showed up on Earth with the demonic parts of zir corporation showing. There were protocols to observe, even for demons. Still, sometimes the situation really called for scars, boils and plagues of flies. Summoning circles, for instance, were a situation when the dramatic was justified. This was another.

“I haven't brought the szzzword,” ze buzzed, furious echoes bouncing occultly off every clean surface, “just myself, wank-wings. Szzzo, if you really want to talk about getting disfigured, aszzzk your sister.”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose and Beelzebub noticed with fascinated schadenfreude that he was half-hard.

“I knew you lot were kinkier than you let on. Iszzz it the scars or talking about your sister that's doing it for you?”

While Gabriel stuttered for words, Beelzebub let the grime of zir corporation leech onto the sheets, staining them a dingy grey.

“Well?”

“It's you,” Gabriel admitted through gritted teeth.

“Yeah? How do you want it this time, pervert?”

“Want to hold you down and fuck the blasphemy out of you,” he murmured. Gabriel knelt at Beelzebub's feet. He struggled slightly with the belt buckle, but eventually managed to pull the trousers down around zir ankles, gently stroking the hair down zir thighs and shins as he did so. “I want to drive into you so hard you're spitting grace for a week.”

Beelzebub slowly pressed a hand down towards zir cunt. The knickers ze was wearing – red cotton this time – had a growing patch of damp Gabriel must have been able to see from where he was kneeling. The clitoris was, Beelzebub decided in a starry daze, the one thing Her Upstairs had got right about mammalian reproduction. Stroking it felt closer to grace than anything Gabriel could fuck into zim. Ze had been holding zirself up on zir elbows, but crashed back onto the bed, concentrating only on the sparks coming from under zir fingertips.

“I want to-”

“Shut up and do it,” Beelzebub grunted, and ze could feel Gabriel's enthusiasm emanating off him.

He pulled the knickers down and pushed himself up until his mouth was on zir. Beelzebub felt him licking and sucking around zir hand, chasing everything zir body was producing. He hooked his thumbs just inside zir to part zir further, his palms flat against zir thighs and pushing them open, licking long and deep, probing further each time.

Beelzebub shivered. “Let me put thiszzz round your prick.”

Ze watched as Gabriel stood, pulled the zip down on his incredibly expensive trousers, and pulled it out. He stroked himself a couple of times; Beelzebub did the same, examining greedily as ejaculate beaded at the tip. Oh, this was going to be _fun_.

Gabriel climbed onto the bed so he was immediately about Beelzebub. He was heavy, and smelled like a human cologne version of Heaven's sterility3. Beelzebub watched his eyelashes flutter above zir as he used one hand to line himself up, dragging the wet head of his prick along zir cunt.

There was no teasing. He didn't go slow. He thrust himself all the way up inside zir in one slick motion, causing zir to grunt again as zir body rapidly tried to adjust to the intrusion. It burned, but burning was something ze was used to.

“You're tight,” Gabriel groaned when he'd finally reached the end. Beelzebub could feel the urge to press down hard, but letting him figure it out himself was half the fun, so ze lay there instead, purposefully willing every part of zirself to be still. Ze put both hands around Gabriel's waist to pull him forward as if he could get any deeper.

The look of panic on Gabriel's face when he tried to pull it out a little was enough to make Beelzebub howl.

“Go on,” ze crowed, “give it the old in and out, prettyboy.”

Beelzebub could feel his finger at the edges of zir cunt, trying to press up inside zir alongside his prick as if he could free himself that way, his finger slick with blood and spunk, and failing spectacularly. Ze ground zir hips down against it all.

“It's stuck,” Gabriel wailed, holding onto his cock with one hand and using the other to press against Beelzebub's nipple. (Ze wasn't going to tell him it made zir gasp, but it was useful information to have for next time.)

Ze finally took pity on him and drew zir teeth together.

It wasn't like biting – not exactly. The feeling of _hunger_ , of wanting to be filled and wanting to keep something for zirself, was the same, but there was nowhere else for it to go. Just a contented warm pulse between zir legs, keeping zir full.

Gabriel stumbled back, looking shocked as blood spurted in a steady stream from the stub where his prick had been. He fell over himself onto the white sheepskin rug and looked down at the life leaking out of him. With every pulse, Gabriel shuddered. Long rivulets ran down his tanned thighs, staining a scarlet shock against the room’s blank canvas. 

“Well played,” he croaked. Beelzebub smirked.

Ze relaxed the teeth so ze could retrieve the prick from inside zir. Gabriel had gone quiet on the rug apart from the occasional rattling gasp, so ze would obviously have to take matters into zir own hands.

Beelzebub lay back again and used one hand to rub against zir clit, the other to move the prick in and out. Not as deep as Gabriel had gone, and at an angle that hit some fun spots. Honestly, the angel had barely known what he was doing. At the right speed and with the right pressure, there could be warmth without the burning.

Ze could feel sparks becoming a wave that swept from zir cunt to the back of zir head. Chasing it, ze started to go harder and faster, casting only the smallest of curses so the prick would stay hard as the blood leaked out of it across zir thighs and arse.

Gabriel stood up behind his corporation to watch. Beelzebub could feel his death and buzzed at it, swarms getting louder with a thrum of reckless joy that combined with the sparks and buzzing from zir cunt.

Ze shuddered. Zir corporation's legs kicking in a way that seemed entirely out of zir control. Ze let the warmth roll over zim in a crashing wave of wordless electricity, then lay there gasping and shivering.

Gabriel finished in his hand with a much more undignified noise and panting. His angelic prick, Beelzebub noted, didn't look to produce anything that could cause any more horrors to run around on Earth – just light and a feeling that ze couldn't quite interpret.

“Until next time?”

Beelzebub pushed zirself up off the bed. “Are you-”

Ze was interrupted by a familiar crackle of lightning. Fortunately, this answered the question ze had been about to ask, and at least getting a corpse out of one of London's swankiest hotels would provide for an interesting afternoon.

* * *

1The humans all seemed to think it was an effort which went well with the protrusions of fat and tissue which some of them grew on their chests. Ze tried for a while, but mostly just found them inconvenient. Best to leave those to the sorts of beings whose infants were pathetically unable to gorge themselves on decaying flesh. ⇑  
2The words were not flat like the curve of a gentle path, but flat like a patch of black ice. ⇑  
3Beelzebub had figured out how to make a vagina but never looked up anything beyond that, so fortunately neither of them had to worry about imposing the other sort of sterility. ⇑


	3. Abdominal Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel gets fisted and then some. (Turns out "all the way through" isn't an AO3 tag. _Yet_.)

The Corporation Committee had, Gabriel would admit, been good sports about the whole thing. Before the Apocalypse, corporations were expected to last for centuries, or at least for decades if you were on the ground. He certainly wouldn't have been able to get away with swapping them out every few months. He'd once had to walk around for almost fifty years with a fencing scar across his cheek – it had lowered morale so much that even now, angels frequently voted the 14th century as the worst time in human history. Sandalphon had gravely informed him that the demons had also picked up on it and had declared the 14th century a resounding success.

Now, though, they tended to be a bit looser with checking operational capability. They'd still get grumpy if he tried to come to them directly, but they were always pleased to see him after he'd been discorporated. Since the Apocalypse had failed to start, Heaven had been simultaneously bored and on edge. Several times Gabriel had discovered angels in little huddles, undoubtedly trying to figure out what parts they would have played if the Apocalypse had come to fruition. It was a pity, really.1

He strongly suspected that the Corporation Committee had been given him messier corporations to try and get him to come back sooner. The first one after the Apocalypse had a mutilated jaw. The one after that had been allergic to sunlight. This one had broken open as soon as he'd fallen over while jogging, and the dying layers of skin remaining attached to him were almost enough to make him take matters into his own hands.

Instead he took both a deep breath and the escalator down.

The first foul fiend he saw was one he recognised. “Hey there,” he said with an encouraging smile, striding towards it, “be not afraid. I'm here to see Lord Beelzebub.”

The demon scrambled backwards and stuttered. Gabriel sighed.

“I _said_ ,” he paused, “b̶͈̹̌̃ê̶͖̭̈́ ̴͇̽̚ņ̵́̏ô̵̭t̸͚̲̑ ̶̳͗a̶̟̠̓̑f̷̃̎͜r̷͔͔͒a̸̼͈̋̏i̶̢̫̋͠ḑ̵̮”.

That time round it seemed to work. The demon went still and quiet. His wide kohled eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed shaking on the floor.

It had perhaps worked a little too well.

Gabriel gave the demon a slight nudge with his foot, filed it as an incidental vanquishing, and continued down the hall. He felt unsteadier without his sword; decided he should probably get it back off Buzz soon, or at least before he had to come back down here again.

It took checking behind an unreasonable number of doors and terrifying a reasonable number of demons before Gabriel found what he was looking for: a large sign reading **IN THE EVENT OF FIRE, SUFFER** , below which was an infernal map of the various circles and their boundaries. Buzz's throne room was only a few hallways over, and opening the door was barely any struggle at all.

Beelzebub sat on the throne, legs spread wide enough apart to be a menace on public transport, pulling Dagon's hair to bring her mouth closer in between them. Ze was making a high-pitched whine which buzzed and echoed non-Euclideanly as Dagon worked an impressive number of fingers in.

“Ah. Sorry to interrupt,” Gabriel said, looking about as sorry as a well-fed lion in a patch of sunlight, “should I come back later?”

Beelzebub stretched zir legs out and tapped Dagon on the back of the head. Dagon withdrew and stood up far more quickly than physics upstairs would have allowed. Her mouth, teeth and hand were all wet, but not with blood – Buzz had evidently got rid of the sharp bits since last time.

“Private party, pigeon spunk,” she snarled, looking Gabriel up and down. “Pay your respects or get the fuck out.”

Being ordered to kneel before a demon like that should have felt sacrilegious. Unholy. It definitely shouldn't have made his dick perk up and pay attention.

Beelzebub pulled a very familiar looking sword up from beside the throne.

“If you're here for the usual reason,” ze said, breath shuddering as ze pulled zirself together, “get naked if you want to keep the clothes.”

Gabriel put a hand to his chest. Buzz had noticed how much effort he put in on Savile Row, and appreciated it. This was probably as close to a declaration of feelings as ze was ever going to announce.2 A snap of his fingers sent the suit, shirt and tie back to a shelf at his tailor's, waiting to be picked up, and his underwear somewhere else entirely.

He grinned. This part of Hell had the warmth and humidity of a tropical storm. He'd unleashed his dick in far less pleasant places.3

“So what's the plan? Is the sword back in play?”

“If she needs it,” Beelzebub replied calmly, handing the sword over to Dagon. “For now, you're going to take her place.”

Beelzebub's thighs shone with sweat, spunk and spit where Dagon had been hard at work. The angry pink slit in the middle of them had been opened in a manner that looked surprisingly gentle for Hell, with more diligence and patience than Gabriel would expect from all but his most pious angels.

Previous encounters had taught him better than to make the comparison if he wanted to last long enough to justify the trip downstairs.

“Will Lord Dagon be sticking around?”

“Lord Dagon will be sticking that sword right up your arse if you don't get a move on,” Beelzebub muttered, which Gabriel very sensibly took as the cue to lower himself to the floor and start lapping at the cunt which had been generously put before him.

There was no hand on his face to stop his breathing this time. Both of Beelzebub's hands were behind zir head, and the thin shirt ze was wearing let him see the muscles in zir forearms tense when he found a particularly effective way to move his tongue against and around the hard clit he concentrated his efforts on. Occasionally ze would wriggle to press harder against him, and since his ability to take feedback had come up in his last performance review, he licked and sucked more vigorously when it happened.

When he felt something stroking between his cheeks at the other end where Dagon was sitting, he looked up questioningly.

“Keep going,” Beelzebub commanded. “Unless you’re ready for me to slice that pretty head off. I'm sure Dagon would be happy to reclaim her place.”

Gabriel shook his head slowly, closed his eyes and went back to drinking up everything Buzz had to offer. Zir spunk was drying along his jawline and he was glad he'd shaved before his jog. Between zir thighs was warmer and wetter than the walls of Hell, but fortunately there was no poster here telling him not to lick.

With very little preamble, Dagon pushed a long finger inwards. Gabriel hissed. It took a little getting used to but wasn't altogether unpleasant. Her hand was cooler than the air around them; two fingers felt like a foreign intrusion which made him glad she'd also added copious amounts of lubricant, whether that was demoniacally miracled or just something her hands _did_. At the third finger, she started thrusting, dragging backwards and forwards in a way that almost made him lose his rhythm.

A sharp slap across the face from Beelzebub was all it took to remind him to keep his balance. He felt the warm pink sting on his face and the grinding pain of his injured knee against the concrete floor. He gasped into the salt across his lips as Dagon pushed her whole hand, fingers folded over themselves like an obscene rose, up inside him to the knuckle and then beyond.

The fullness inside of him was horrifically human. His thoughts flashed across _food, fucking, fertilisation_ without finding anywhere to settle. He could feel his entrance stretched impossibly wide to accommodate her wrist, so tight he worried he might break the scaphoid as she fucked him mercilessly, her fingers scraping against something that could have been an echo of pleasure if only they'd taken it slower.

Everything in Hell was this. Gabriel could feel the blood pulsing in his ears, his knees and palms pulverised against the needle sharp floor, his wet dick slapping against his stomach when Dagon thrust into him again and a cool breeze from the door. Anyone could walk in and see him, an angel getting defiled, fucked on Dagon's hand and taking communion at Buzz's cunt. With more effort than it should have taken, he lifted a hand to start fingering Beelzebub. Dagon had been doing it when he first walked in, so he could take a guess that it was something ze enjoyed.

Ze slapped his hand away instead. “That'szzz Dagon's job,” ze muttered, stroked his cheek and then pulled him back in closer by the back of his head.

He gave a lick inside, as deep as he dared, and felt Buzz tighten around his tongue before going back to sucking on zir clit.

Dagon put the hand that wasn't inside him on his dick and pulled it with the same rhythm she was fucking him. The ache had lessened slightly, but when she moved again, intense cramps washed over him, deeper inside than a normal corporation would be able to take. His shoulders shook and his jaw hung loose as he concentrated only on the pain that was racking his abdomen.

“She's up to her elbow now,” Beelzebub murmured, one hand idly stroking Gabriel's hair. “If you can make me come before she gets here, you can have your sword back.”

Being up to her elbow would explain the hot wet blood running down his crack and dripping into the floor as she worked her way further in. His stomach muscles tightened as she stroked his dick and ran a thumb over the head. The spark that made him come over her hand and spatter against the floor felt dull and far away, as though he was floating above it. He gagged when he felt Dagon start tearing at his oesophagus, the human corporation holding onto its reflexes even in a situation no humans would ever find themselves in.

“Boss?” Dagon's voice asked over his shoulder, “I'm going to need to use the sword to get any further.”

Without waiting for a reply, she pulled back out, taking flesh and blood with her which mottled the floor with dark stains. Gabriel could feel the warmth of Hell pulsing almost all the way through him and he mouthed pathetically at Buzz's cunt, barely able to keep his eyes open thanks to the vicious ache all the way up his torso. When he felt the sharp sting of his own sword scraping at the edges of his open ass he wriggled half-heartedly away. It was no work for Dagon to put a hand on his stomach and pull him backwards onto the blade, slicing him in two wet halves like a too-ripe peach.

It was easy then for her to push her fingers all the way to Buzz's cunt. Gabriel was too out of it to even gag when they emerged from his mouth, slippery with blood.

“You can go now,” Beelzebub said from between gritted teeth when ze noticed Gabriel sitting on the floor beside Dagon, looking fascinated.

He laughed and shook his head. “You kidding, Buzz? I wouldn't miss this for anything.”

He knew his corporation was heavy and Dagon was much quicker than she was strong. He lifted an eyebrow at the demon currently wearing his corpse like a particularly attractive sleeve, and when she didn't object, put a hand beneath its still-warm torso for some support.

The other hand went to his dick. This time round he'd come with all his senses ethereally high, watching Buzz get fingered by someone who obviously knew what ze liked. Ze grunted and writhed on the throne as Dagon added another finger much more slowly than she had done with Gabriel.4

“Lord Dagon,” Gabriel said later, when she was walking him back to the exit, “thank you for letting me join the two of you today.”

Dagon rolled her eyes. “I know that Lord Beelzebub likes destroying you in various ways and wants to see you happy. But know that if you ever do anything like that to zim, me shoving a fist up your arse will be the least of your worries.”

“Noted,” Gabriel agreed. It was rare that he got to feel love in Hell, so the twisted and sickening waves of it rolling off Lord Dagon were an excellent end to a supremely enjoyable evening.

* * *

1He had been to a management seminar about forty years ago where the humans had good ideas about what to do in this sort of situation. Unfortunately, he had chosen to indulge in some candy and most of his notes had become blurry. He had vowed to never again sully his temple with gross matter. At least, not until the next time. ⇑  
2It wasn't anything of the sort. Lord Beelzebub was just sick of how much time Gabriel would spend whining about losing another favourite shirt. ⇑  
3L.A., for one. ⇑  
4The lightning when he ejaculated in his celestial body was a bit of a surprise for the other two, but Beelzebub admitted that the tingle was fun. ⇑


	4. Electrocution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is given a corporation which isn't him. If gender dysphoria is a possible tricky spot for you, please read the spoiler end notes before deciding whether or not to read this chapter.

The Corporation Committee had stopped being good sports about the whole thing.

“Archangel Gabriel,” said the chair, looking sternly over the celestial glass rectangle which held information on all his corporations since the dawn of time, “we respect your service down on Earth and the challenges you've faced following the folded Apocalypse merger. However.”

“However?” Gabriel prompted. He outranked every single Committee member. They'd never had reason to call him in before; how hard could it possibly be to sign off on the same model as always?

“However,” the chair – who might have been called Abriel, or possibly Haberal – repeated, voice wobbling only slightly, “this is your third corporation you've asked for in this year alone. We worry that you may not be treating the gifts you have been granted with the full respect that they deserve.”

“Listen, buddy,” Gabriel said. He stood up. He had assumed this would be over with fairly quickly and so hadn't bothered to conceal the various celestial gifts he had been granted. Abriel, or possibly Haberal, paled, uncertain where to look. “Do you know how much effort I put into the upkeep of these things? I take them running. I shave them. I dress them in human clothes. I even use them to learn about human culture so I can blend right it when I go down there. Remember what happened when we were last down there without corporations? I'm one of Heaven's best field agents, and it's ridiculous this hearing is even happening.”

“No, no,” the chair reassured him with more alarm than was strictly necessary, “definitely don't go down without a corporation, we're not saying that. We just thought it best to invite you in to discuss with you why your new one looks – a little different. Shall we?”

The angel to their left – some perky young upstart who must have been born around the same time as ferns – started spinning bones around Gabriel's soul. He bit his lip. The first few minutes in a new corporation were always disorientating, but never as badly as this. The flesh tightened on him, capturing him in a suffocating cocoon of fat and nerves.

“You see?” Haberal asked gently. “We modelled this one after Maryam. Now you can look after her like you always did.”

“Right.” Gabriel's felt something tighten around his throat. “Yes. Thank you.”

He was shorter. Curvier. It wasn't a perfect memory, thank Heaven, just close enough that he might be surprised when he caught himself in a mirror. When he got to Earth (it felt off to stay like that in Heaven, be recognised like that in Heaven, for reasons he didn't care to explain) he tried to ignore that every step was _wrong wrong wrong_. He concentrated on doing good works, throwing himself into them with such abandon that other, more human, volunteers repeatedly took him aside to express their concerns.

It worked for almost four weeks.

Beelzebub found him in the chemist where he was deliriously trying to figure out which combination of pills, pads and potions would help him feel less cursed.

“Behind me, foul fiend,” he muttered.

Buzz rolled zir eyes. “Go for the TENS machine. I've got some opiates back at my place. We should be able to get you sorted in a few hours.”

A thought stabbed from his crotch to his stomach. This was Original Sin making him bend over, twist in knots and throw up. But a thought stabbed from his crotch to his stomach: there was sin long before the humans ever came along.

“Buzz, do you go through this in your corporation?”

Ze had the gall to start laughing at him. “No, you idiot, someone on your team fucked up. It's not meant to hurt that much.”

“That's – that's good. I'm glad you don't hurt like this.”

“I hurt more,” Beelzebub replied, but ze was hauling him to his feet and helping him to the counter. “But I was never idiot enough to put a uterus in this thing.”

Buzz owned a little studio flat in a part of London which looked like it had got halfway through gentrifying before getting bored. The flat itself was crowded but unexpectedly clean, with no more mice than any other dwelling in the city1. A faint smell of decaying meat, but that was the London rental market. Ze bundled Gabriel onto the bed with a thunk and went into the kitchen to grab the first aid kit.

While Buzz was doing that, Gabriel unwrapped the TENS machine. It promised _clinical pain relief – proven results_ , which it would certainly deliver if it knew what was good for it. He lay back on the bed, stuck an electrode on either side of himself under his shirt, and switched the machine on. It tingled.

“Any help?”

Gabriel looked up from the pillow. Beelzebub was examining him with slightly more interest than usual.

“A little,” he admitted. It still hurt more than getting stabbed on the battlefield, but he no longer wanted to vomit.

Beelzebub sat down on the bed next to his head and started stroking his hair, brushing it off his face and pulling the curls through her fingers. “I've got something else here that should help more.”

Ze had a glass syringe in one hand. Gabriel eyeballed it suspiciously. Buzz was not, as far as he knew, a medical professional of any kind, occult or otherwise. There was no reason ze should be shaking a syringe to rid it of air bubbles. Ze definitely shouldn't be tying a tourniquet round the arm nearest zim, or tapping it until a purple vein rose up.

“You ready?”

Gabriel bit his lip before nodding.

Beelzebub jammed the syringe into the crook of his arm, making him hiss. When ze pressed the plunger down it was with more ferocity than he'd expected and it wasn't long before he could feel something crawling up inside his veins to make a home there.

“Here. Let me.”

Gabriel wasn't sure if his nemesis was putting effort into looking human, or if it was just easier up here in zir own dwelling. All he knew was that ze was beautiful in ways he couldn't currently see and he wanted to hold zim. To stroke the soft fly whose legs splayed down into soft hair.

“Alright, stay with me. Stay with me, prettyboy.”

The softness was interrupted somewhat by a sudden bolt across his stomach. Beelzebub grinned. Ze was holding what looked like some sort of human tool. It blossomed with sparks when ze pressed it up against him. They licked up his side, crackling with gentle fire until Buzz pressed a button again and shot lightning through every nerve ending he owned.

Gabriel arched his back, trying to press himself up against the sensation. “Again.”

Buzz laid the tool down by his side so ze could use both hands to undo his zip and wriggle his trousers down. He could feel his briefs wet and hot against him until Buzz rolled them down too. Ze pressed the tool between his red lips and, buzzing with concentration, set it off.

Fire blossomed between his thighs. The lightning cracked across him, cutting through the cloud that was holding him up away from the pain. It was nothing like travelling – that was lightning as vehicle. This was lightning through him and part of him, slicing him open.

Beelzebub dropped to kiss it better and came up dripping blood. The flies buzzed excitedly.

“Again,” Gabriel said. His nipples were hard and dark. He reached up and rolled one slowly between his fingers. “Do it again.”

It felt like a rubber band snapping against his thigh. Like a wire scraped across his clit. Like a burn through his hand. It made sense; Buzz had thousands of years of applying pain. If ze wanted to make it fun, rather than torturous, there was nobody Gabriel would trust more to be able to do it. Each touch pulled him closer towards it.

His cunt was bleeding slick onto the musty sheets. When Beelzebub stroked the wand across him, he shivered. When ze worked it inside him, he tried to pull back before succumbing to sloth instead, letting zim fuck him on it and sending staccato bursts up inside him.

The blankets felt warm and heavy. He could have sunk into the bed if not for the sharp raps keeping him conscious.

“Prettyboy.” Beelzebub slapped him a couple of times. After using the same corporation for a good few decades, Beelzebub had managed to build up a decent tolerance to most drugs and was realising that Gabriel perhaps hadn't had the same opportunities. “Wake up.”

The obvious thing to do was to reach for a tool at zir disposal. Ze knew that humans used electricity to restart their hearts2 and so pressed the wand into Gabriel's sternum before lighting it up with as much power as possible.

“Hey, Buzz?”

Gabriel wiped his blood off Beelzebub's chin with his thumb. It burnt into ash before he could do anything else. Beelzebub still looked beautiful; he still wanted to stroke zir tangled hair and legs. Now he was no longer high as fuck he also wanted not to have his soul wiped off the map, and the self-preservation part of him won out.

“It's not my fault. I didn't know you were such a lightweight.”

“How did you find me?”

Beelzebub stilled, then rolled zir beautiful blue eyes. “Your sister. She called me and said you needed help getting free. So now she owes me one, and you owe me one.”

“Can you,” Gabriel gestured at the body on the bed which had been tattooed with red branches, “take care of this one? Be gentle with it, I mean. Maybe don't feed it to a hellhound.”

Beelzebub scowled. “What the fuck do you expect me to do with it?”

“Take it back to my apartment. I'll help.”

The cab driver had seen weirder things, but none he'd forgotten quite so quickly as the pretty sleeping girl with all the scars, the queer lad in the military jacket, and the overwhelming urge to **b̶͈̹̌̃ê̶͖̭̈́ ̴͇̽̚ņ̵́̏ô̵̭t̸͚̲̑ ̶̳͗a̶̟̠̓̑f̷̃̎͜r̷͔͔͒a̸̼͈̋̏i̶̢̫̋͠ḑ̵̮**.

* * *

  
1Occasional rats used to stop by to hand in reports, but they hadn't done that since a certain traitor had stopped handing in his end of year reviews. ⇑  
2They don't, but as established in previous chapters, Beelzebub's knowledge of anatomy was shaky at best. ⇑

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is given a corporation against his will which is supposed to remind him of Maryam, with the understanding that this will lead him to take better care of it. He finds this upsetting even before he starts menstruating painfully. Gabriel has a cunt in this chapter and it's referred to it as such.


	5. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beelzebub goes up to Heaven, where Gabriel hasn't been kidnapped but has overdone it at the gym.

When he called, Gabriel sounded _weird_1.

“Buzz, listen,” he said. It was a bit of a hiss. A bit of a lisp. It was low and whistling with an urgent undercurrent. “I know usually I'd come down to you for this sort of thing, but they're not letting me leave. I need you up here.”

Beelzebub paused. There were many ways ze could react, all of them equally reasonable and proportionate. Someone was holding Gabriel prisoner. That was fine. Ze just needed a moment to think. After rubbing zir forehead and mentally rummaging through several further enquiries, ze picked the one that was most urgent.

“Are you taking the piss out of my accent?”

"What? No! Look, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't an emergency," and there was the kettle noise again. "Just get the elevator up and I'll book you in at reception."

A sword and an Eric, Beelzebub decided. That was what ze needed. Going upstairs was uncomfortable at the best of times, but for some weird and awful reason, ze – a Prince of Hell – actually _trusted_ Gabriel. Gross as it was, ze would go topside for him.

“Eric,” ze barked, causing one to spontaneously materialise out of fear, “we're going upstairs.”

Heaven's reception didn't have any seats. It was assumed that anyone getting there would arrive at precisely the right time and have no need to sit down. For most of creation, that had been the case, with anyone coming up greeted with a warm smile and waved immediately through. The Apocalypse, however, had complicated things somewhat. Beelzebub's back screamed when ze had to stand for more than a few minutes2 and ze was about to smash an angel's face into a range of shiny screens when Eric spoke up.

“ _Dave_ ,” Eric scowled at the nervous-looking angel who sat behind reception, “we're here to see the Archangel Gabriel. Tell us where he is.”

Beelzebub was almost impressed. The angel flapped and flustered while Eric glowered ominously (or at least, gave a look that was in the rough vicinity of ominous; the same county, even if it was in a different postcode).

“It looks like he's currently in the gym.” Dave swallowed. “Would you like me to escort you?”

The angel's voice became higher and squeaky towards the end of the sentence, which might have had something to do with the way Eric shook his head slowly and drew a finger across his throat.

“Just a map.” Beelzebub remembered a certain subclause in the amnesty agreement, and gritted zir teeth, making “thank you” sound like a curse.

A humming blue line of light appeared beneath the white floor. The Dave told them to follow it, then sunk his head into his arms to think for a while about falling, ineffability, and the divine plan.

For a set-up where Gabriel was being held against his will, this was all surprisingly easy so far.

The blue light led them to a stark white hall with equipment Beelzebub felt like ze should be making notes about3. Gabriel was curled up in one corner in a pale grey tracksuit spattered with blood. Beelzebub didn't speed up and stride towards him, but if ze had, it would have been for purely professional reasons and not out of any sense of worry.

“Oi,” ze said, slightly out of the breath ze'd been experimenting with, “prettyboy. Wakey wakey.”

Ze nudged him with the end of his sword and he rolled over to stare up at the ceiling.

“Buzz. Do whatever you want to me. Tear this corporation apart. It's done for.”

His lip was neatly stitched where it had been split open, and when he spoke Beelzebub could see –

“Your tooth's gone.”

Gabriel hauled himself up morosely and opened his mouth for Lord Beelzebub to take a look. The flies which swarmed inside while Beelzebub squinted at him were a surprise, and he coughed and spat when one of them brushed against his uvula. It took a few minutes of sputtering before he spoke again.

“Gross. Look, Michael and I were sparring in the corporate plane and she went too hard and broke one of the bones. And then I swallowed it. Accidentally. And then Raphael said I had to stay here until he fixed it. So...” He waved his hands around his face, then up and down his body. “I know you guys are busy down there. If you want to just run me right through and get going, that's fine.”

Heaven had gone through a few redesigns since Beelzebub lived there. The angels had gone all in on open plan, for one. Even the private offices had no curtains on their glass windows. Maybe ze should have asked for privacy for angels during the amnesty negotiations, but ze had been too concerned with getting the paperwork just right on all the reassignments.

Ze raised the sword. “Favour for a favour, prettyboy. Get those trackies off.”

Gabriel's eyes4 widened in shock for a split second. It was only a beat before he pulled his shirt and jumper off. Eric gave a low whistle of appreciation which Gabriel returned with a wink. Back in his usual corporation he was confident in his movements. His broad shoulders rippled when he bent down to take off his trainers and finally shimmy out of his trousers.

“Well? Where do you want me?”

The archangel fucking Gabriel was nowhere close to shy. He stood with his hands on his hips and his fat prick filling with blood as Beelzebub looked him up and down. Ze jerked zir head towards the long deep basin which jutted out from the wall.

“Put your hipszzz against the edge and bend forward.”

Gabriel did as instructed and strode towards the bath until his hips banged against it. It was filled with ice water and was intended as a place for angels who'd overdone it to soothe their aching muscles. Ice cubes bobbed along the surface. Gabriel took a deep breath and bent at the waist, yelping quietly when an ice cube brushed his nipple. The white porcelain under his hands felt warm compared to the deep water below him.

“Erm. Boss,” Eric asked quietly, “the water. It's not... y'know, is it?”

Beelzebub's face was enough of an answer. It was a pity; ze'd almost started to like this Eric.

“Here,” ze said, handing Eric the sword, “hold this.”

Eric's eyes grew larger. Here he was, holding the Righteous Blade of the Archangel Gabriel, who his boss had bent over and was about to start fucking in the arse. The lads downstairs would never believe this.

Beelzebub unzipped and spat into zir hand.

“Right, archangel,” ze said, rubbing the drool down lazily down zir cock, “here's the deal. You're going to stay nice and still for me. Any movement and you go under. Got it?”

Gabriel shivered. “Got it.”

There was no sort of gentle foreplay. Beelzebub lined zirself up with Gabriel's cleft, rubbed zir cock at the entrance for a couple of strokes, then plunged right in as far as ze could. Ze thrust inwards a few times as if ze could get any deeper, holding onto Gabriel's shoulders while rocking into him.

“He moved,” Eric grinned, swinging the sword down from where he'd been keeping it across his shoulders to shriek it across the gym floor.

It was true. Gabriel had reached a hand down to try and rub himself off.

“Oi, prettyboy,” Beelzebub leant forward to mutter into his ear, “you're not in charge here.”

It was the last thing Gabriel heard before the rush of water and the crashing roar of his heartbeat. He struggled – his human corporation struggled – against the hand at the back of his head and the forearm across his shoulders. Every part of him from his prick to his cheeks reddened at the coldness of the water trying to invade his lungs until the last bubble of breath had escaped and he was still.

Beelzebub hauled Gabriel out by the hair and whacked him across the back. He coughed and tightened around zim, but was obviously trying hard to stay still apart from that. Beelzebub pulled zir cock out almost entirely before ramming it back in again. If Gabriel was less stubborn, he might have gasped.

“What do you think?” Beelzebub asked as if ze wasn't dragging zir entire length in and out of an archangel repeatedly. “Shall we invite the other angels in? Let them all see prettyboy taking it up the arse?”

Gabriel's fingers curled, which was enough. Beelzebub plunged him back down again. The struggle and the choking went straight to zir cock. Droning flies filled the air as Beelzebub snapped forward, sinking into the heat which contrasted so well with the rising cold.

He rose up coughing, gasping and spitting water. “Thought angels were supposed to be good,” Beelzebub commented, almost drowned out by the buzz around zim. “Can't even stay still.”

Although he was doing frustratingly better. Beelzebub's nails had left red moons in his shoulders before he so much as squirmed, giving zim the excuse to gather a fistful of wet hair and thrust Gabriel back down under the ice.

With a few more thrusts ze finished up inside him, then pulled out, leaving his arse shiny, wet and leaking.

“Eric,” ze grunted, “you're up.”

Almost as an afterthought Beelzebub pulled Gabriel's face up out of the water again. He blinked slowly. When Eric slid into him, thrumming with jackal quickness, he stopped blinking at all.

“Eric's been brave,” Beelzebub explained, still with one hair wound tightly through Gabriel's hair, “szzzo we're letting him fuck your angelic hole. Might let all the demons up here to do it. Let Dagon split you open again with the hoszzzt as your audience, how about that?”

Gabriel's prick was leaking against the edge of the bath as Eric pounded rapidly into him. When Beelzebub took it in zir hand, it only took a few strokes before he was spattering against the porcelain, hot and cold and not sure which he was shivering with.

“Moved again,” said Eric, sing-song with a heady grin.

Beelzebub smiled softly. Gabriel could see zir blue eyes before the panic of water forced its way in. He scrambled against the white surrounding him, flooding his airway as he tried to pull away from the Eric and towards the light. He could hear the two of them chatting above water as if nothing was happening in the cold. He shook desperately until his lungs and his mind filled with something that felt an awful lot like love.

“Should I keep going?” Eric asked uncertainly.

Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder. “If you like, champ.”

Beelzebub watched as Eric sped into spending in Gabriel's reddened hole. The angel leant against zim. He always seemed to enjoy this bit.

“If you wanted to get fucked some time,” Beelzebub said cautiously, “and you didn't just need to get discorporated. I guesszzz I could do that for you. Now we've both signed the amnesty and all.”

“Buzz,” Gabriel breathed, glowing golden, “you want to make love?”

“Grosszzz,” Beelzebub replied, horrified. “No. _Gross_. I just meant I wouldn't murder you _all_ the time. If you wanted.”

“Shall we kiss?”

Beelzebub shrieked and picked up Gabriel's sword. Ze plunged it through the floating corporation and it clanged against the bottom of the basin. Red spread slowly underneath the ice.

“Pervert,” ze yelled, pushed Gabriel backwards and stomped off towards the exit. Eric could join zim whenever he'd finished up; ze wasn't going to spend another second in the company of someone who'd be so vulgar around a Prince of Hell.

Gabriel paused, sighed, and rubbed a hand against Eric's back as he jackrabbited into the empty corporation. “Know what, buddy? You're lucky to have such a great boss.” He pulled the sword out with only a little struggle. “Here. Give this back when you guys next meet up.”

Dave was very surprised to see Eric leave Heaven naked from the waist down and carrying the Righteous Blade of the Archangel Gabriel. On reflection, though, it was almost definitely above his pay grade.

* * *

  
1Not as weird as Uriel had sounded last time round, obviously. She'd sounded like the words were being dragged out of her with a meat hook, and the disgust in her voice when she'd talked about “your little game with my brother” was a sound Beelzebub would treasure until the next Apocalypse. ⇑  
2Not literally, although ze'd experimented with making it so during the 11th century. ⇑  
3Hell hadn't invented ellipticals, but after this visit they were sure as fuck going to perfect them. ⇑  
4Well, Elizabeth Tayor's. ⇑

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to the kink meme server for listening to me spitball about this, to my beta for having such a strong stomach, and to the [original prompter](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/616.html?thread=1135720#cmt1135720) for both their prompt and their encouragement. 
> 
> And thanks to you for reading, with bonus thanks to everyone who's kudosed and commented.


End file.
